


Intermission #1

by hisfoolishgirl



Series: APTX WATSON [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, Sherlock (TV), 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: And it's kinda just really hitting home that he's a kid now, And to actually live with Sherlock, Gen, He's had time to stew on it now, It would stress anyone to the point of sass really, Kid John, Shrunken John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:25:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisfoolishgirl/pseuds/hisfoolishgirl
Summary: John's finally settled into the pace of what it means to live with Sherlock Holmes.And that means hearing 'Bored' shouted very loudly. Very often. And accented with gunshots.





	1. Betting Pool

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff.
> 
> Because I wrote a fanfic that highly features Sherlock as a fake parent for a reason.

“Bored!” Sherlock shouted. John watched, bored himself, from the other side of the room. He however managed his boredom by peering over the top of a current medical journal that he was reading through. 

“Please, Sherlock, put my gun down,” John said with the same bored tone he’d been using for the last four hours. It had been a hopeless endeavor so far. Like hiding the gun from Sherlock to begin with.

Sherlock took aim at the smiley face on the wall, and he fired once more. For the third time that morning. John set the journal down, and he took a deep breath, “You really need to stop doing that.”

Sherlock glared at John for a moment before flopping down on the couch beneath the smiley, “I haven’t had a case in days, John.”

“Two days,” John corrected, “It’s been two days. Is this really how you get after two days?”

Sherlock frowned, but he set the gun down on the table beside him. A light rasp on the door was followed by rustling. One rustle from Sherlock as he settled a newspaper to cover the illegal gun John had. The other rustle was John’s as he changed his reading material to something more age appropriate.

Sherlock rose so he could see that John had sufficiently covered up his less then typical readings for a boy of his seeming age. He nodded seeing such, and his voice carried clear enough for the man on the other side of the door to hear, “Come in.”

Lestrade entered and his eyes lingered on John, “Um - Still on babysitting duty then, Sherlock? I can come back later with my case…”

“He is a permanent resident now,” Sherlock answered casually with a wave of his hand, “Please tell me you have a case for me to work on.”

The detective stared at John, “Please,” John whispered, his voice trembled just the right amount, “Please tell me you have a case for him to work on. He’s been intolerable like this. He’s even worse then me when I’m bored -- And I’m the kid!”

The detective smirked for a moment as he glanced at the two of them before Sherlock - who had taken to frowning at John - resumed to pace about his living room, “Yeah,” Lestrade admitted, “I got a case. Locked room murder -”

“Boring!” Sherlock shouted as he stopped.

“Sherlock,” John snapped causing the two properly grown men in the room to freeze. Sherlock looked at the tiny form with wide eyes, and Lestrade’s expression matched, “ _ Listen to the man _ .” John hissed. 

Sherlock nodded once before he’d realized he’d done such then he turned to Lestrade, motioned for the man to continue, “You heard the boy,” Sherlock commented as he steepled his hands in front of his face, seeming to be at full attention of the newcomer, “I’m listening.”

“We have a clear suspect,” Lestrade continued with a slight cation to his voice, “But we don’t know how they’d managed to do it in the locked room. We just need to figure out the how of the murder site.”

Sherlock waited for Lestrade to continue, and the detective glanced about the room instead, “Is there anything more?” Sherlock asked.

“Honestly? The boys have a bet on how long it will take you to solve it,” Lestrade admitted, “And that means holding out on the details before hand. I’m in the pool so they don’t trust me to be honest about how long it took you to solve it.”

“Is Anderson in on this betting pool?”

“Yes, he says it will take you 10 to solve this.”

“Donovon?”

“Five. She’s okay with losing her money to Anderson,” Lestrade shrugged, “Or at least that’s what she says. To be honest, she’s just taken the most popular bet.”

John blinked, “Five hours?” He asked with a glance at Sherlock, who smirked.

“Minutes,” Sherlock corrected before a laugh slipped out, “At least if their smart about it anyways. What’s your bet, Detective?”

“30 seconds - or less. I allow you to consult for a reason after all.”

John made a choking sound, and Sherlock shot up with an excited clap, “Well then Lestrade - Is anyone else sharing the pot with you when I get it in 10 seconds?”

Lestrade smirked, “Nope.”

“Should feel offended by that,” Sherlock commented with a smirk, “But it will make it all the sweeter knowing that everyone in the station will be losing their bets. So, sure - I’ll come out for something this  _ dull _ !”

“Not everyone in the station will be losing their money,” Lestrade grumbled as he watched Sherlock pull on his coat. 

John simply watched as they left. He nearly went back to his actual reading before Sherlock popped his head out from the doorframe, “Lestrade has made a point of asking if I have a sitter for you since he’s noticed Mrs. Hudson is not here to keep watch of you.” John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock smirked. “I know,” Sherlock admitted. “But- Since you don’t have a sitter - and he knows you’ve been through a very, very traumatic event in the last 72 hours, what with nearly having your uncle die and all. He’s allowed me to bring you with me - at least to the crime scene though I doubt he’d let you come in the actual sight of the corpse.”

“You say that like I’ll want to see the corpse.”

“Anderson is on Forensics. He won’t work with me. You will.”

“I am a child, Sherlock-”

“Doctor -”

“Child. Apparent child, Sherlock, and if we want to keep it a secret -”

Sherlock stared at John, and John simply let out a deep breath at that. No point in wasting his breath.

John frowned and he stomped over to Sherlock’s side, “You said you’d have it done in 10 seconds anyways.”

“Yes,” Sherlock admitted, “But, we also need to set precedent for future, more, interesting cases.” John smiled, but he shook his head, “You’re a military doctor, John.”

“Child, Sherlock. Do I need to repeat myself-”

“You have the appearance of a child, John. Your mind and mentality have not at all shifted, now do you want to see a violent death or not?”

“Most people would be offended with the presumption of wanting to see something like,” John hissed.

“Yet,” Sherlock hissed, “If there is danger,” He motioned with one hand, “Then,” With the other he motioned at John, “You never seem to be far from sight. Even after being locked into a police car with the explicit instructions to stay put.”

“He didn’t lock the car.”

Sherlock’s smile was pained at that, “That’s what you focused on?” The unspoken -  _ Need I say more? _ \- stayed unspoken.

John motioned to the steps behind Sherlock, “Fine. I’ll admit it. Oh god yes, I’ll admit it. You’re right. I’m not just a child,” Sherlock nodded, and he turned to step away. Then John grabbed his sleeve and Sherlock was staring down at a boy whose gaze never left the floor, “But that’s not -”

“Lestrade thinks you’re Mycroft’s child, and your new birth certificate confirms it. And, you are my ward as well.” Sherlock whispered softly, “I assure you, any blood of mine would not behave to the norm. As long as you at least try somewhat - you don’t have to maintain the perfect ruse. Besides, do you really want to stay in the flat?”

* * *

 

“He’s not entering the crime scene, Sherlock.”

“If you want the pool - then he is. Because I am not going in without him.”

“It isn't a pretty picture in there.”

“He’s tougher then he looks-”

“Sherlock-”

“I am tutoring the boy,” Sherlock’s voice dropped enough to show vulnerability, but not enough so that John and the nearby Anderson couldn’t hear, “I know what the station thinks of me -  _ clearly _ . But - If Mycroft hadn't thought me able to handle him with the utmost of care - or an acceptable amount - then he wouldn’t have entrusted John into my care. And by my care, I mean, I am formally adopting him. If you must you can check back at the station. The boy is to be schooled by his legal guardian - me - and that includes in my methods of deduction, Detective. He is going in there with me. I wouldn’t trust him out of my sights at the moment - considering…”

Lestrade winced, “If I was dealing with anyone but a group of Holmes - I wouldn’t even entertain the notion of believing a single word of that.”

“But you are, so you’re doing more than just entertaining the notion - you are believing it.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I am,” Greg grumbled before he stepped to the side and motioned for Sherlock and John to entire the crime scene.

John stopped in front of Lestrade and looked up at the man, “So, um, met my, um, father?”

Lestrade’s smile was tight, “He just wanted to make sure your uncle-”

Sherlock was back by their side in less than ten seconds, “Kidnapped, John. Mycroft kidnapped him to make sure I wasn’t working with someone that I could pressure. I was right out of rehab at the time.”

John’s jaw loosened for a moment, “Oh.”

Anderson, standing off to the side, stared at the child, “What is he doing here?”

John glared at the man.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sherlock answered for John. He turned to Lestrade, “The pool of blood is mixed with water. The man fell on a block of ice he’d sharpened into a knife. Since you said you just needed to know the how and not the who then it was a suicide framed to look like murder.” He held up a stopwatch, 9.23 seconds, “Now, since you were busy and distracted by the adorable little tike-”

“Oi-!”

“Here is the proof that you lot need for how long it took me to figure this out.”


	2. I'm Not a Pathologist, Sherlock

A week later, John was kneeling next to a corpse, alone in the room with Sherlock. He was also leveling a very solid glare at the grown man, “Really, you want me to give you the cause of death?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered simply, plain gaze back at John, “Clearly. You are a medical man.”

“ _ I’m not a pathologist, Sherlock. _ ”

“I’ll get a proper report of autopsy,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “But that won’t be for another few days still - or six hours at earliest if Molly isn’t busy today. I can’t wait that long, John, and you’ve been in the same room with Anderson-”

“Yeah, I know. He won’t work with you. Then give me the goddamn child gloves you keep in that coat of yours,” John grumbled with an outstretched hand, “And please tell me you have a bag to dispose of them on you as well. I am not explaining why  _ I  _ have gloves that need to be disposed of in the first place.”

Sherlock smirked as he offered the a pair of the handful he’d been maintaining in the hopes of a moment like this, “Obviously, Doctor. Though at this point I think Lestrade might gain a few years if he knew the truth. It would save him the stress of worrying about the sort of influence I am on you.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” John grumbled as he set about examining the victim, “Maybe the level, but I assure you - They’d have warned me off of getting involved with you no matter my height.”

It took a moment, but Sherlock’s quiet, reluctant voice couldn’t be missed, “Would you have listened?”

John looked up at Sherlock, his face twisted in the thoughts of his struggling examination. He settled back though as that contortion shifted to giving Sherlock’s question - his vulnerability - the proper thought that it deserved, “If I had met you without all of this?” John answered with a quick motion up and down his current self, “I wouldn’t have run away. What was it you said the other day? About my relationship with the word dangerous? You’re rough around the edges, sure, but you’re genius. And, I don’t know how they miss it, but you are a good man. So yeah,” John bent back over his patient, “I would have listened - but not in the way that any of them would have wanted me to. I have stuck around.”

He glanced back up once he realized Sherlock wasn’t going to say anything, and the man quickly looked away. Not before John saw that he’d given the right answer, “About that cause of death-” Sherlock whispered.

The door creaked back open and Lestrade had full view of John using his hands on the victim to keep his balance as he stared over at the door, frozen with shock at the interruption - and for being caught in the position that he was in, “ _ Sherlock! _  I do not care about the permissions your brother has given you about John - I will  _ not  _ tolerate this behavior! Get out of my crime scene right now!”

* * *

 

Sherlock was sitting on the curb outside of the aforementioned crime scene beside John. His voice was a whisper, “So, about that cause of death-”

John at Sherlock, “You expect the detective to listen to you after that? Seems he made it quite clear that he’s kicked you off of the case-”

“I don’t get paid for this,” Sherlock answered with a wave of his hand, “He’ll have to arrest me to keep me away. So - that cause of death?”

John took a deep breath before rubbing the bridge of his nose and providing his flatmate with a description of what he saw, “You’re lucky,” He added on to the end with a hiss, “If I hadn’t taken up reading up on medical forensics my analysis would have been far less useful.”

Sherlock smiled, “I said dangerous and here you are. You’re really stepping up to the plate. Perhaps I really will train you.”

“Oh god,” John paled, “Damn it, Sherlock. I  _ am _  a doctor -  _ not a detective _ .” He seemed to lose attention in the moment for a moment before rubbing his face again. Sherlock was making a note of the fact that man seemed to do that when in emotional duress.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, feeling that he was missing something. Because was hardly emotional duress in comparison to the other samples he’d seen of John’s behavior, “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” John answered tightly, “Just realized I might as well be living in a tv action drama is all.” He looked up at the sky, and he simply stared, “Never thought that would happen,” He duly noted.

“Boring,” Sherlock whispered with a roll of his eyes, “Really, John. As if you could have settled for less than this.”

John smirked, recalling the small abandoned room of a flat he’d had, “I think you have a point at that,” He whispered. Sherlock’s gaze snapped away from the other man before he snapped up straight.

“Well, then,” Sherlock said with a clap of his hands, “Time to go tell Lestrade that it’s the brother that did it-”

“Clearly,” Anderson’s voice carried over to them, “Due to the injuries only the sister could have-”

“Wrong,” Sherlock shouted as he strolled over to where the two detectives were discussing, “ _Wrong!_ ”


End file.
